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Gala Moody & Michael Carter, Cie. OFEN: The Vase, at Börse Wuppertal

Six hours on the Autobahn and straight into the theatre to find Gala and Michael hard at it. I reckon they must be near the end, arriving so late as I did, but they keep going, like they were waiting as long as possible for me to get there before they started. In the end I missed maybe 20 minutes of their pre-general on Thursday evening and had the delight of their sweaty hot bodies jumping on me the instant they realised who the tardy arrival was.

Turns out missing the beginning is crucial to understanding what’s going on. Without Gala’s first monologue the piece only has the meaning I put on it; it’s a strong argument for context and against interpretation. So I’ll start with interpretation. A woman in a long, pale-lemon dress, cut just below the half-way line of her calves. Sleeveless, but over a dirty white short-sleeved shirt. A man in Oxford Blue corduroy trousers and a blue-grey unbuttoned shirt over a dirty white singlet. Both bare foot. A stage coated with ash, four wooden chairs, and downstage where the stage manager’s box would be if it were on-stage instead of off, a table, chair, computer, sound and light desks, spaghetti-ing cables onto the floor into a red effects box, and a single microphone on a long cable.

It’s one of the enduring clichés of dance theatre, ballet, contemporary dance and all, the single man and woman on stage, dressed so, performing the clichés of heteronormativity. It would be a comedy, except it’s not. It’s a cliché also of gay male choreographers making such work, almost a compulsion, like having to ‘reinterpret’ Giselle or Swan Lake. I’m watching these two dancers, tall, lithe, strong, who I’ve known for well over a decade in various cities and countries, who have danced together for thirteen years now, who I adore — so let’s not pretend I have any interest in lip service to ‘objectivity’ here — who I love watching dance, especially when it’s their own dancing, especially together. I’m watching them, and without the benefit of that first monologue, wonder how awkward it’s going to be if they fall over into that cliché. And giving them credit here, I know them for mercilessly mocking all the tropes and stereotypes of dance, both with their words and with their bodies. Yet sometimes the piece makes itself, and sometimes even the most caustic find themselves wanting to say something on those roles and identities and selfhoods which are real and lived, which we have to negotiate even if we ourselves are not fully part of, even while they are so often used to fill the void of ideas.

The next day I see the whole work. I pay attention. I listen to Gala say, “Have you said any words of love today? There are no words of love today.” Say, whisper, bellow. Her voice is a typhoon blasting the stage, pushing the air before it. Rage, hate, anguish. This is the story of Medea, who kills her children after her husband’s betrayal. This is the story of Gala. In Genesis, Michel Serres says,

The more I think, the less I am me. If I think something, I am that something. If I simply think, I am no longer anyone. In any case, me thinking am nothing.

[…] Dance is to the body proper what exercise of thought is the subject known as I. The more I dance, the less I am me. If I dance something, I am that something, or I signify it. When I dance, I am only the blank body of the sign.

When Gala and Michael reference the story of Medea and Jason, the Gods take an interest. Not to say it’s an invocation, but rather to recite the lines from Euripides’ Medea, and to find or thread together multiple variations, be it Euripides, Ariel Dorfman’s Purgatorio, or their own private lives deferred through these variations is enough to reverse the relationship. It is Medea who dances her life through Gala as much as it is Gala who draws on Medea to tell her own. It is a repetition across time, through each work referencing a predecessor, tracing branchings and bifurcations back to Medea. It is a repetition also in their bodies, dancing themselves, dancing each other.

I want to diverge from philosophy here and write of the awe I feel seeing these two together. Because this is becoming something of a review and not just photography and a travel document, Gala and Michael first danced together in Leigh Warren & Dancers, Michael coming from Oz Ballet; Gala from WAAPA (by way of me and a couple of pieces back when I actually made dance). Michael went on to Compañía Nacional de Danza in Madrid, while Gala went to Charleroi Danses then Ultima Vez in Brussels. As for why I was seeing them in Wuppertal, Michael joined Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch a while ago. So we’re talking about two highly capable dancer-performers, who have worked across dance, theatre, opera in Europe and Australia while making their own work together for much of that time, and ‘officially’ since 2012 under the name cie. OFEN. They move, alone and together, with brutal clarity. This isn’t the kind of work you can make in six weeks by throwing together some steps and ideas; it’s a knowing of self and each other down to their bones, worked into their bones. Even if they had gone fully into the cliché, I’d be destroyed by the beauty of them together.

The inevitability in their dancing. They compound that with dialogue, or with just the mundane acts of technical concerns, changing the lights, sound. There’s a moment where Gala is on all fours, around the centre of the work, the light and the energy has gone into a dark place, like blood is going to be spilt — or already has and you don’t even feel it yet — and Michael, barely above a whisper, spits, “Get. Up.” Savage. A slap to the face. Hatred where there was supposed to be love; betrayal and resentment and spite. You want to see work like this. You want the shit mediocrity of the cliché exposed for what it is: violence and abuse. Those saccharine dramatic conceits of the love story rest on the unmentionable bodies of murdered women, and while Medea might have murdered her children, this is projection: it is not women who are the murderers, not terrorists who women must fear, but the men in our midst, the men closest.

It’s a fucking hard, brave work.

It’s a beautiful work. I’ve said that already. Here is the violence of abuse, and here also is something to aspire to, here is a way out. Michael and Gala, Gala and Michael. Maybe a decade and some years is what’s needed for such a work. The care they take with each other, the familiarity, even or especially when they get rough, when it needs to be endured. The matter of fact getting on with it, like digging in the garden, there’s a complete absence of pretence that also doesn’t try and be some shite authenticity, like here’s the genuine, essential, real Gala and Michael for your entertainment. I want to say more, but then it becomes personal, and the point of a performance is to defer biography. So I will end with the end. Michael is back at the table. He and Gala have danced together, separate but together, increasingly apart, the light has increased for this last somewhat third or act, he sits and watches her as she comes from upstage in front of the chairs, dancing, dancing, and fades the lights, she’s smiling. Alone, survived, no longer Medea, Gala dancing, smiling.

The Vase — cie.OFEN, in Wuppertal

The beautiful tall ones, Gala Moody and Michael Carter, are finally performing together in Germany. In Wuppertal, as in home of Pina Bausch and Tanztheater Wuppertal, or Wuppi as the locals seem to call it (dunno if that’s a local thing or Aussie local thing. Strayans would probably call it Wuppo.). Trailer on Vimeo, and I’m debating with myself whether to bike some of the way over.

Dear friends,

Cie.OFEN is delighted to invite you to the german premier of The Vase, the latest work by Cie.OFEN which premiered at Wim Vandekeybus’ ‘Ulti’mates’ festival in Kortrijk, Belgium.

Based on the theater work Purgutorio by Ariel Dorfman, The Vase shows the clash between Medea and Jason, who are trying to repair a broken love. Condemned to their own reckoning, they find their fates are entwined.

The Vase will be performed for one night only at die börse, Wuppertal (Germany) on Friday, 2nd of June at 8pm.
Tickets: €12,-/€8,-

For more information please click here or email: michael@cieofen.com
Looking forward to seeing you at the show!

Gala Moody & Michael Carter
Cie.OFEN

The Vase — cie.OFEN, in Wuppertal
The Vase — cie.OFEN, in Wuppertal

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Melanie Lane — Wonderwomen, HAU1 Dress Rehearsal

The brilliant Melanie Lane’s new performance, Wonderwomen opens tonight in HAU1, with: the awesome pair of professional bodybuilders that are Rosie Harte and Natalie Schmidt; set and costume design by Robert Bartholot; music by Clark; lighting by Fabian Bleisch; and feministing up in your dramaturgy by Frances d’Ath (yup, the one who has this blog). It’s on the main stage, and looks deadly. Here’s some photos from dress rehearsal yesterday.

Melanie Lane’s Wonderwomen at HAU Berlin

Yes! The one with the two women bodybuilders! In Berlin and on the main stage at HAU. Next week! And then back to Leipzig for you all down there. Here’s all the details:

Melanie Lane invites you to her new work Wonderwomen, at HAU1 Hebbel am Ufer, Berlin.

Wonderwomen invites the two female professional bodybuilders Rosie Harte and Nathalie Schmidt to meet in a performance context. They contemplate their highly demanding sport that amplifies and transforms the body. While striving for an ultimate physical form, the women navigate their profoundly trained bodies and the potential for a new body language. Wonderwomen is a dialogue that brings together strength and vulnerablility, representation and transformation, athleticism and femininity.

Concept and choreographie: Melanie Lane
Performance: Rosie Harte, Natalie Schmidt
Light design: Fabian Bleisch
Sound design: Clark
Set and costume design: Robert Bartholot
Dramaturgy: Frances d’Ath
Choreography Assistant: Florian Bücking
Production-management: M.i.C.A.

HAU1, Berlin: April 21, 22, 23, 19:00
LOFFT Das Theater, Leipzig: May 12, 13, 14

Melanie Lane — Wonderwomen
Melanie Lane — Wonderwomen

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Melanie Lane — Wonderwomen

The last five weeks I’ve been working with Melanie Lane on her new performance, Wonderwomen. It premières this Thursday, November 24th at LOFFT in Leipzig.

Mel asked me to come in and and be eyeballs / brain cells / dramaturg, or “Professional Audience” as I call it, with two pro women bodyduilders, Rosie Rascal Harte and Nathalie Schmidt. Who are both brilliant and beautiful performers, smart and thoughtful, and a joy to work with. Melanie totally scored with these two. In fact her whole team is quite awesome, with Clark on sound, and Bartold for stage design.

I’ve been wanting to write about Wonderwomen, Mel, Nathalie and Rosie, and have some time next week when I join them in Leipzig for the première. Rosie’s already written about her side of pre-show prep, as has Nathalie. In the meantime, here’s the details.

Wonderwomen
Festival Body Change Future
Melanie Lane (Berlin/Melbourne)

“I’ve made many good friends in bodybuilding, though there are few I’d trust to oil my back.” — Lee Labrada

Première: Thurs. 24th Nov. 20:00. LOFFT Leipzig
Season: Sat. 26th, Sun 27th Nov. LOFFT Leipzig

Further seasons: Wed. 14th Dec. Alte Feuerwache, tanz.tausch, Köln
April 2017. HAU Hebbel an Ufer, Berlin

Wonderwomen invites two female bodybuilders Rosie Harte and Nathalie Falk to meet in a performance context. Two women contemplate their highly demanding sport that amplifies and transforms the body. While striving for an ultimate physical form, the women navigate their highly trained bodies and the potential for a new physical language. A dialogue between strength and vulnerablility, representation and transformation, Wonderwomen is an attempt to re-discover, re-invent and re-claim the female body.

Concept & Choreography: Melanie Lane
Performance: Rosie Harte, Nathalie Schmidt
Light design: Fabian Bleisch
Sound design: Clark
Stage design: Robert Bartholot
Dramaturgy: Frances d’Ath
Artistic Assistance: Florian Bücking
Photos: Robert Bartholot

Sarah-Jane Norman: The River’s Children, & Take this, for it is my body. In Melbourne Festival at Dancehouse

Sarah-Jane Norman. This weekend. In Dancehouse at Melbourne Festival. That’s enough links. No excuses. Get your arse there.

Sarah-Jane, or Satan-Jam, my meeting of whom last year I’ve described in eloquent, sweary detail (it’s all true, I swear! It’s why I blog, external memory storage an’ all), is in Melbourne. Right now! How privileged are you, Melbz? Get over your smug selves and get to Dancehouse this weekend, or Friday if you’re down with premières, before 17h — that’s 5pm to youse — for 2 hours of harrowment.

To be honest, I’m not sure if it’s 17h for the installation and 19h for the performance, and if both works are on each day, or … mainly because Dancehouse and Melb Fest websites are making my brain bleed. Probably best to camp out on Princes St from Thursday, just to be safe.

Sarah-Jane Norman. Brilliant work, brilliant-er person, two works: The River’s Children and Take This, For It Is My Body. Go on, go and read about them.

In all non-hyperbolic seriousness, I can’t speak highly enough of them. For the past year — when they’ve been in Berlin — I’ve had crucial, on-going discussions with them around identity, selfhood, making performance, representation (as well as epic slamming of telly series), racism, colonialism, diaspora (geographical and within one’s own body), Australia in all its ambivalence; also “What’s the best music for Mad Gainz, Frances?” “That’d be ’80s speed and death metal, crossover and thrash.” type conversations about training and physicality. Really some of the best convos I’ve had in years. (They also stepped up and were on the sharp pointy rivet of the Marina Abramovic racism a couple of months ago.)

So, as if it’s not obvious enough, Frances “Hostile To Everything” d’Ath (seriously, that’s what another awesome Australian said about me, “… in a good way though …”) is a huge fan of SJ. Go see them, say hi from me.

Sarah-Jane Norman — Take this, for it is my body
Sarah-Jane Norman — Take this, for it is my body
Sarah-Jane Norman — The River's Children
Sarah-Jane Norman — The River’s Children

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Neo-Grotesk Crypto-Brutalist emilezile.com

End of March, right when I’m throwing finally together my design portfolio (I swear I resisted, and now love having one), Emile asked if I might want to hurl together something for him. Something Web1.0, something like we’d handcode in HTML in the late-’90s, not quite something MySpace in the days of its browser-crashing gif-frenzy inferno, but definitely something that would be in its lineage; something tuner Nissan Skyline, unassuming on the surface, but all Fast & Furious: Tokyo Drift when you pop the hood. Something Helvetica, Neo-Grotesk, what’s getting called Brutalist right now, though not traipsing behind a fashion; this is Emile and when I was looking through years of his work putting his new website together, he has a deep love and understanding of the aesthetic, and the art and philosophy underpinning it.

First things first:

Emile: I have two websites. Can we make them one?
Frances: Yes!
Emile: Can we do all these other things?
Frances: OMG Yes!

Lucky I’d just done my portfolio, cos that gave me the framework to build on without having to bodge together fifty different functions and stuff. Saves a few hours there, which we made good use of in timezone-spanning conversations on typography, aesthetics, and usability.

First off, getting all those years of blog posts and work projects into a single database / website / organism. I used the hell out of interconnect/it’s Search & Replace DB script, merging, shuffling, shifting, getting rid of old code, jobs that would take a week or more to do by hand, done in seconds. We’d pretty much sorted out structure and functionality in a couple of afternoons; for a website that looks so simple, it was most of two weeks diligent work, back-and-forth conversations, picking away at details, (stripping and rebuilding, stancing, slamming, tuning … we are very good at turning all this into hoonage, especially with 24h Le Mans in the middle).

Obviously it had to be ‘Responsive’, look hella flush hectic antiseptic no matter what device, and for me (recently taking this stuff proper serious) it had to also be ‘Accessible’. I put those words in scare-quotes cos they’re kinda bullshit.

It occurred to me as I was finishing, that for a website to be neither responsive nor accessible — for example it looks crap if the screen size is too small or not ‘right’, or you can’t navigate with keyboard or screenreader — you have to actively remove this functionality. You have to break the website and override browser default behaviour. It’s a very active process to systematically remove basic functionality that’s been in web browsers since the beginning. You also have to actively not think, not empathise, intentionally not do or not know your job. Me for probably all of my earlier websites.

The funny thing is, it’s not really any additional work to make sure basic responsive and accessible design / functionality is present; the process of testing it always, always, always brings up usability issues, things I haven’t thought of, little points that become involved discussions about expectations, interactivity, culture, philosophy. Like ‘left and down’ is back in time, and ‘right and up’ forward; 下个礼拜 / 上个礼拜. Next week / last week. Yet the character for ‘next’ is xià, down, less than, lower; and ‘last’ (in the sense of ‘previous’) is shàng,  up, more than, higher. So how to navigate between previous and next posts or projects turns into an open-ended contextual exchange on meaning.

And ‘responsive’, ‘accessible’? Basic, fundamental web design. Not something tacked on at the end.

Back to the design. System fonts! Something I’ve not done in years, being all web-font focussed these days. Another trip through the wombat warren of devices, operating systems, CSS declarations. It’s crazy impressive how deep people go in exploring this stuff. Emile Blue! A bit like International Klein Blue, and a bit like Web / HTM 4.01 Blue. But not! We worked this in with a very dark grey and very slightly off-white, bringing in and throwing out additional colours, and managing in the end to sort out all the interaction visual feedback though combinations of these three — like the white text on blue background for blockquotes. Super nice.

As usual, mad props to DreamHost for I dunno how many years of hosting (it was Emile who said to me, “Frances. Use DreamHost.”), WordPress for running Emile’s old and new sites (and all of mine), and Let’s Encrypt for awesome and free HTTPS. And to Emile for giving me the pleasure of making the website of one of my favourite artist.

Emile’s new website is here: https://emilezile.com

Emile Zile — Mining the Cloud

And another performance. You’re not in Moscow for Isabelle; you’re in Collingwood for Emile Zile and Desktops! Part of the Mining the Cloud: a series of desktop documentaries performances put on by Interval Projects.

Desktops
Disembodied voices. Home Altar eternally altered. You wont believe what happens next.

Building on the recent body of work Desktops, Emile Zile’s performance creates narratives from computer screen captures, search term collages and algorithmic portraiture to explore human mediated communication and the circulation of digital images.

Emile Zile

Emile Zile: Desktops — 1
Emile Zile: Desktops — 1
Emile Zile: Desktops — 2
Emile Zile: Desktops — 2

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Ophelia Doesn’t Live Here Anymore Photos

Some months already since the pan-hemisphere rehearsals of Daniel Schlusser’s Ophelia Doesn’t Live Here Anymore. I’ve been sitting on these photos for a while, and as spring lurches across Berlin – as well as some imminent Dasniya and I shibari adventures to be announced – decided if I don’t get them up here now, it will enter the region of unlikelihood. I think all photos are from Daisy Noyes (not sure about the first one, but assuming yes).

Ophelia – Suspended in Tree
Ophelia – Suspended in Tree
Ophelia – In the Kitchen
Ophelia – In the Kitchen
Ophelia – Flowers in Kitchen
Ophelia – Flowers in Kitchen
Ophelia – Requiem for a Blender
Ophelia – Requiem for a Blender
Ophelia – Suspense
Ophelia – Suspense
Ophelia – Onion Soup
Ophelia – Onion Soup
Ophelia – Fishbowl in Kitchen
Ophelia – Fishbowl in Kitchen

Ophelia Opens

Rehearsals via Skype between Berlin and Melbourne as the sun rose in mid-summer. More talking and writing and videoing back and forth in the last months, and suddenly it arrives.

Daniel Schlusser’s new performance, a co-production with Chamber Made Opera and Bell Shakespeare’s Mind’s Eye, for which I somehow contributed Japanese rope bondage, is premiering as I write this, half a world away. Really wish I was there.

You can see it over the next three days …

Sounds of an army massing, or is it trumpets…or thunder? Then a chorus of angels…
OPHELIA sings
O, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!
The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s, eye, tongue, sword;
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck’d the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
That unmatch’d form and feature of blown youth
Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

OPHELIA DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE

Thursday 24 November 2011 at 9pm
Friday 25 November 2011 at 9pm
Saturday 26 November 2011 at 9pm
At a Private Living Room in Armadale

Ophelia doesn’t live here anymore reveals the story of Ophelia as a monomaniacal botanist – wilful, unpredictable and in love with a self-harming sociopath.

Ophelia doesn’t live here anymore is a cross-artform opera, a collaboration between Daniel Schlusser, composer Darrin Verhagen, video artist Richard Grant and choreographer Frances d’Ath,
with design by Marg Horwell. Performed by Daniel Schlusser, Lily Paskas
and Karen Sibbing in the role of Ophelia, the project will bring together text from Hamlet,
video, physical extremes and Verhagen’s dark combination of music and Noise to create
a new chamber opera performance installation.

That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
That suck’d the honey of his music vows,
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!